Page 3 of Married to the Mafia

She wasn’t sure if he tugged her closer or if he leaned in, but she was absolutely sure she should not have liked suddenly finding herself nearly nose to nose with Mikey De Salvo.

“You’ll get those two hours tomorrow, not a minute sooner.” Had he lowered his voice again? Was it her imagination? “I need you focused, not hyper-focused. Tomorrow is still ahead of the deadline.” He released her purse and took a single step back, putting a small amount of distance between them. “Now go eat something, and no more of this fucking tunnel vision.”

She licked her lips as soon as he turned to resettle in his chair, far too flustered to retain her agitation.

“Was there something else, Richardson?” Mikey asked as his gaze darted across the various displays before him.

A familiar spike shot through her and she remembered what had set her off earlier. Brandi drew a breath, briefly debating her options. It wasn’t worth the effort of the debate. She’d never been good at biting her tongue. “Why am I the only one up here you address by surname?”

“Why does it matter?”

She frowned. “I don’t even know Miguel’s last name. But half the building thinks my name is Richardson.”

“Isn’t it?”

Brandi ground her teeth. “I’ll be frank, then. It feels like a punishment, and one I don’t deserve.”

Mikey finally looked at her again, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. “Oh, so you want to have that conversation today.”

It really pissed her off that he could rile her up and then turn around be a complete jackass in the span of two minutes. And what did that say about her? Was she just desperate? That has to be it. She hadn’t had a boyfriend since she’d graduated college. Living at home tended to kill a guy’s interest, and she’d been so busy since she’d finally moved into her own place she hadn’t even looked. This weekend, that has to be a priority. She could not afford to keep lusting after her jackass boss.

Out loud, fortunately, Brandi only said, “If that’s what it takes.”

Mikey made a thoughtful sound and abruptly turned back to his monitors. “I’m busy. Get your project complete and we can work out a time.”

“Are you serious?”

“Go home, eat, do whatever it is you do on your own time.” He swept his mouse in an arc, clicking on something as two of the monitors switched displays. “Goodnight, Richardson.”

Brandi huffed, not caring that he could hear her, and twisted in place. “For the record, at least I tried to talk this stupid thing out. Sir.” She would have loved to slam the door behind her, but of course he had a self-closing door that gently swished shut no matter how forcefully it was flung open. So unsatisfying.

She didn’t know why she’d even applied for this job. Except she did know, and that memory only upset her more.

She waited until she was back in her car to pull her phone from her purse and open her father’s texts. Though she would rather have deleted them unread, or even changed her number and neglected to share it with him altogether. She could do neither, not at her current junction in life, so she forced herself to read the words instead.

Wesley: Come home for dinner tonight.

The second text was just a specification of the time he wanted her to show up. There was no question, no request, no inquiry as to how her day was going or if she might have plans.

Brandi dropped the phone back into her purse and made her way into traffic. Her father wanted her to show up at her childhood home no later than six-fifteen, so she had a little less than two hours. Too bad she really was starving. A woman had an obligation to herself to eat at least one tolerable meal a day, right? She swung into her drive-thru of choice a few minutes later. Given that she did still need to actually eat, get home, shower, and change before heading to her father’s, going to a sit-down restaurant might have been pushing it.

Her stalker was parked across the street from her condo, about half a block from her driveway.

Brandi drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, so tempted to stop and go up to the SUV. But she’d seen that movie, more than once, and she wasn’t naïve enough to not realize how stupid that could be. I am not handing myself over to a kidnapper. So, again, she kept driving. She continued to pretend to be oblivious. She carefully pulled her purse into her lap as she parked, released her seatbelt as soon as the car was stationary, and hurried to snatch the bag of steaming food off the passenger seat. She fast-walked to her front door, keys in hand, and pivoted in place to shut and lock the door again immediately behind her. Only then did she quiet her alarm before finally blowing out a breath of relief.

Once more she’d made it home without being assaulted.

Once more she’d had the fear of a pending attack of some kind hanging heavily over her.

If that asshole really was working for her father, she was going to kill them both.

Mikey called up the CCTV footage from the elevator, watching as Brandi Richardson stabbed the ground floor button and put her back to the wall. She folded her arms across her chest, her anger still visible, and his lips twitched. The woman had been so much more than he’d expected when he’d reluctantly agreed to hire her.

His eldest brother, Dante, had expressed concern that she was being sent as a spy. It was a reasonable concern, one that Mikey had shared initially. However, she was overqualified for the position she was applying for, regardless of who her father was. So, with his brother’s blessing, he’d made the decision to interview her as normal and simply keep a close watch on the new girl. Most of his staff was family, it was easy enough to make sure someone was always around who could make sure she didn’t get up to no good.

The daughter of Wesley Richardson had quickly proven her worth, objectively. She had skill and a sharp mind that made her a valuable asset.

Worse, it hadn’t taken Mikey long at all to develop something of an infatuation. It wasn’t often he met a woman who spoke his language and didn’t shrink from his prickly attitude. He arguably shouldn’t have moved her up to the third floor, but her work was top-tier. The problem was her willingness to barge into his office uninvited.

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